


Dayfly

by everywintersbreath



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, M/M, could be read as platonic, love isnt explicitly stated but its heavily implied, vent write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 15:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18391571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everywintersbreath/pseuds/everywintersbreath
Summary: In the courtyard behind the hospital, Doyoung befriends a grieving salaryman.





	Dayfly

**Author's Note:**

> please note tags and warnings
> 
> i wrote this in an hour while listening to dean's dayfly and biting all the skin off of my nails
> 
>  
> 
> i apologize

For the first time in months, there’s someone else sitting on Doyoung’s favorite bench.

It’s a salaryman from the look of his neatly ironed suit, his hands clasped together and nails bitten down to stumps as he glares at the stones of the overgrown patio. Doyoung stops walking, hand paused in its path to push aside the foliage, taking in the hunch of the man’s back. It’s a posture that doesn’t appear to belong with such a well-kept appearance. He must have rushed here from work.

“Are you going to sit down, or keep staring at me?” The man asks abruptly, seeming impatient. Doyoung understands the short temper considering the reason that he’s likely here, but can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips as he trails over to slide into the empty space, hospital gown fluttering in the slight breeze that manages to enter the glade. “This is my bench,” Doyoung says, a bit petulant. “No one comes back here.”

The man looks at him for the first time, eyes dark and much larger up close. “Oh really? I didn’t see your name on it.”

“Then I’ll let you off this time,” Doyoung replies, feeling the familiar tinge of nausea start to hit his stomach. He’s in the mood to be bratty, and no amount of nice jawline is going to stop that. The man snorts humorlessly, resting his chin on his hands once again as he returns to staring at the weeds in between the cobblestones. “How generous of you.”

Doyoung observes him for a moment and then looks away, swallowing the lump of painful tension that threatens to rise in his throat as his abdomen tightens. It’s a nice day out, he thinks. It’s the kind of weather that he would have enjoyed a lot more if he weren’t confined to the hospital campus.

“Isn’t it boring?” Doyoung asks, watching the way the man’s shoulders tense when he speaks. “I don’t know what you’re referring to,” the man replies, guarded and prickly. Doyoung just smiles, returning his gaze to the pretty puffs of clouds that are visible through the gaps in the petals overhead. “Sitting here like this, I meant.”

The man shrugs, shuffling a bit until he’s fully upright for the first time since Doyoung’s walked in. “I needed fresh air. It’s stifling in there and I can’t focus on anything.”

“Well being alone with your thoughts is no fun,” Doyoung comments, swinging his legs ever so slightly, the edge of his gown waving about. “You’ll only get moodier if you mope on your own. Why don’t you talk to me about it?”

Frowning, the man meets his eyes for a moment, his arms awkwardly folding into his lap. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Doyoung,” he replies without hesitation. “I’m a patient here, but you’ve probably figured that out. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to someone other than the hospital staff.”

The man’s eyebrow tilts slightly, and Doyoung can tell that he wants to ask about Doyoung’s family, but he noticeably restrains himself, running a hand through his perfect hair. “I’m Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta. I found out this morning that my younger sister has less than a month left to live.”

“I see,” Doyoung replies thoughtfully, watching a butterfly land on an open flower across the courtyard from their bench. “Well, you have some time, right? All you can do is try to make her last days happy. I’m sure she’ll be grateful.”

Yuta nods, turning his head to study Doyoung once more, a strange emotion in his eyes. “What about you? Are you-?”

“It’s a secret,” Doyoung replies cheerfully, reaching up to lightly tap his own lips. “But if you come back and keep me company again, I might tell you.”

Yuta’s mouth twitches, and for a moment Doyoung thinks that he might have cheered him up. “No need for bribery. I would have come back here anyway, but I’ll take your eagerness to see me as a compliment.”

Doyoung smiles at him, that gummy smile with all the teeth that his mom had always told him was his cutest. Maybe he’ll finally have someone to talk to in this stuffy old place. Maybe he won’t be alone anymore. There’s a strange feeling of elation that rises in his chest along with the bile from his illness.

For Doyoung, this is the most meaningful encounter he’s had in the last year.

 

-

 

He meets with Yuta at least once per day for the next few weeks.

The older man usually comes by the hospital after work, visiting his sister for an hour or so before coming out to the courtyard and letting loose his pent up tears of frustration. Doyoung likes to pat him on the back or rub a hand through his hair, sometimes humming one of the songs that his parents had used to play in the living room during the holidays.

It always takes Yuta a long time to stop crying and ranting, but Doyoung doesn’t mind. The sense of companionship is infinitely valuable to him, especially when Yuta will hold out his worn deck of cards after a good cry and challenge Doyoung to a game of go fish (which he always loses, somehow, despite the statistical improbability). Just talking to Yuta makes it a little easier to stay sane.

On the best days, Doyoung can sometimes get Yuta to crack a smile or laugh. On the worst, he just hugs him against the cold metal of the bench, shivering through the thin fabric of his robe as the seconds turn into minutes and the minutes into hours. It’s a strange relationship, one formed from needing a way to cope, but it works.

Unfortunately, good things can’t always last.

It’s seventeen days after they first meet that Yuta enters the courtyard at exactly three o’clock. Doyoung watches him stumble over, watches him fall against the bench, and Doyoung knows instinctively what’s happened.

Yuta doesn’t come for the next three days, but even if he did, Doyoung wouldn’t have been there to greet him. From the window of his room, he can see the courtyard, can see the undisturbed peace, can envision what it might be like to sit on that bench for a final time as the tubes plugged into his arms grow heavier.

He’d never told Yuta, but with his prognosis, death has been long overdue.

Perhaps the warmth of companionship had fueled his heart to pump a little bit longer, or perhaps Doyoung is just being sentimental again. Either way, when Yuta walks into his hospital room, flowers in hand and eyes downcast, Doyoung can’t help but feel guilty.

“Yuta,” he mumbles, voice nasally from the feeding tube in his left nostril. “Don’t come in here.”

Yuta sits at his bedside anyway, always one to ignore Doyoung’s wishes. “Shut up, you idiot. I don’t care if you’re dying, I’m going to keep you company. You were the one who told me that the best thing I could do was to make someone else’s last moments happy.”

“You don’t need to see this,” Doyoung mumbles unhappily. “I don’t want you to be even sadder than you already were.”

Yuta settles himself, looking at Doyoung with a strange sort of sorrow in his eyes. “Don’t talk like that. You’re very important to me. I can’t just leave you alone here.”

“Stupid,” Doyoung replies with what little fake exasperation he can muster as he takes in the bunch of bright yellows flowers in Yuta’s hands. Dandelions, his favorites. Yuta had remembered. “So, so stupid.”

  
  
  


It’s the dandelions that linger in Doyoung’s vision long after visiting hours end. It’s the dandelions that put a smile on his face as he finally lets himself succumb to sleep, and it’s the dandelions that remain at his bedside when the nurse finds him an hour later, all cold hands and empty eyes.

Yuta plants the remaining dandelions in the pot on his mantle, right next to the picture of his younger sister’s middle school graduation.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading


End file.
